The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas
by Epitome of Randomness
Summary: The Christmas Parody fic that should be finished by Independence Day. What happens when the top 12 Christmas clichés invade Artemis Fowl and his manor? Violence, maid costumes, McDonalds and snowball fights with Holly. What were you expecting?
1. Do We Have Any Jewish People?

**Hello hello! It is excellent to be back and writing both Slayers and Artemis Fowl again! Basically, this is a sort of parody and sort of a Christmas fic, and sort of a parody of a Christmas fic, which I'm aiming to get done by the 24****th****. When that fails, by New Years :D**

**If you don't have a clue what the Slayers is, the original story is on my profile, and the rewrite should begin in 2011. **

**This however, is set pre-Atlantic Complex. That is, post Time Paradox.**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm Stephenie Meyer, not Eoin Colfer! **

**WARNING: Mild language, which will get worse through the story. It's Clare, it's Christmas, and it's stressful.**

_**…**_

**The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas**

**Chapter One: Do We Have Any Jewish People?**

_In which Clare says 'swell,' Alex is from New Zealand and Amelia is neither swell nor Kiwi. Screw her._

_**Excerpt from THE SUE SLAYERS HANDBOOK pages 67, 71**_

"_Working on Christmas. Yeah, it sucks. It isn't fair, but you get extra pay, and like, karma. I don't know. Also, people love you for doing it. It means they don't have to. It's kind of like being a sewage treatment worker […] so if you are working over Christmas, you're like a working class hero, or some shit like that. A very merry Christmas, and a happy new year."_

Twas a month before Christmas, and all through the house, not a Mary Sue was stirring…

Screw poetry. Flowery scene setting will do.

Far, far below the ground, hidden under national landmarks, the Sue Slayers lurk. Under Big Ben, Times Square, Tokyo Tower, Federation Square they lie, working tirelessly to protect characters, authors and fans from the evils of bad fanfiction…Our tale begins in the office of the rather good looking Major Clare Martin, who is discussing the Holiday of Holidays, the Birthday of the Saviour with her red headed, ok-looking ex-sort-of-apprentice.

And eating toast.

_November 29th_

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Going home?"  
I threw a crust at Alex, my apprentice. "Like, are you staying at home, or going to your grandmothers or-"

"My nana's dead." Alex ate said crust. "Last year."

Awkward.

"But we're staying at my house, and my aunts and uncles are coming over. It should be good, except they always ask me about school."

I smiled. "I've been there. I usually talk about how amazing the facilities are and they get bored."

"I go on about the soccer team. My family hates soccer."

"Unlike the entirety of Australia. God, we're such bandwagon jumpers." I said. "I'm going to my aunts. She's a babe."

"Do they have a pool?"

"Oh yes."

"What about…who's staying here, at base, over Christmas?"

I shrugged and said, "I don't know. But, if someone stays here over Christmas, they automatically go home for New Years."

"Imagine staying with some Main Characters for Christmas. Harry Potter would be awesome. What's it like?"

"I don't know. I've only ever stayed at the Rides with you, and Artemis Fowl overnight, remember? I don't like talking to MCs as myself, if you get what I mean."

Alex nodded. "Same here. I haven't actually spoken to him yet, but I don't think I'd like it. What is it like?"

I thought back to the last time I'd seen Artemis Fowl – it was a 'get back in the game' mission after the incident in the Twilight fandom.

"Uh…"

_****_

_October 10__th_

"Hi! I'm a quirky, fun-loving OC. I'm totes original and I teach Artemis how to LIVE!" All of this was accompanied by whirling arm gestures and a high kick. "Whee!"

"That's wonderful for you."

"Mmm-hmmm. I'm not clichéd at all. Don't look at me like that, I'm not. I play guitar LIKE JONI MITCHELL-"

"So you had polio as a child?" I asked, part amused and part irritated.

"What's polio? And I play and I sing sing SING and-"

"Yeah. I'm gonna hit you now."

"What?"

It was then I drew my fist back and punched her in the face. Her nose broke under my fingers and she ran from the room, sobbing.

"A little violent, but necessary." said Artemis from behind his newspaper.

"Oh so necessary, Mr. Fowl. Have to clear the way for Holly, don't we?"  
"Are you going to elaborate on that?"

"Nah."

"I didn't expect you to."

"See you around, Artemis. We'll send someone in at about lunchtime tomorrow."

"I look forward to it. I like your haircut, by the way."

"No you don't," I mumbled, slamming the door behind me.

_****_

"He's very cool with the whole fictional character thing. A little too cool."

"Do you think he'll try and visit us at this end?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I told him someone else had tried once and they died. What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty five."

"Right. You better get out of here before I get swamped, or you'll get sucked in."

Alex mock-saluted and left.

I sat back in my (leather bound. Oh yes.) chair and closed my eyes. It had been almost four months since The Twilight Incident, in which I'd been caught in an explosion. Of my own making, but whatever. I'd been pretty lucky – temporary deafness, stress fractures in my wrists and ankles. I'd been more upset over my hair, which had burnt off. It had grown out into a vague mess of spikes.

I pretended to like it. Most of the time, anyways. I usually felt like a Scottish cross dresser.

There was a knock at the door. "Major Martin?"

I smiled and sat forward. "Yes, Eleanor?"

Eleanor, a youngish Slayer, tripped into the room, clutching a file. "I just got this assignment from the Commander, but I don't think I can do it."

"Lemme see."

"Oh, it's just the Fowl fandom, and I take a job as a maid for the holidays. I'm going up to Port Douglas for Christmas with my family – I can't stay for the holidays."  
This is why I like Jewish culture. Hanukkah? No one freaks out about missing Hanukkah.

Well, as far as I know, anyway. I'm a Gentile.

Hanukkah's the one with the glass smashing, right?

I opened up the Slayer Database on my laptop and found Eleanor's file. Eleanor Simons, twelve, fourteen successful solo missions to date, including a foray into Maximum Ride.

"I can see why Amelia wants you. I can't go over the Commander, obviously, but if you go see her-"

"I did. She told me to see you."

"Well, then I'll go see her. Give me that file. Thanks."

Eleanor hovered at the door.

"Go. I'll find you after I talk to the Commander."

She did an un-mocking salute and scampered. I saw a couple of other kids about holiday leave (we really did need to organize it earlier) and flipped through the file. It was too similar to Hannah's long-ago mission to…how long ago was that? I frowned. Amelia couldn't send another kid that young in, even though circumstances had changed.

Finally, just past ten, I barged into Amelia's office.

"Josh – OUT!"

As he ran, I sat down and smiled at the Commander. She frowned.

"I know you're a ranking officer, but you can be a bitch."

I tossed the file on her desk, and for extra points, stuck my feet up there too.

"I want to tell you a story, Amelia."

"About what?"

"Well, once upon a couple of years ago, there was a girl called Hannah whose name was the same backwards as it was forwards. And her mentor, a delightful girl whose name has been forgotten, sent dear Hannah, whose name was the same backwards as it was forwards, off to keep an eye on fourteen year old Artemis Fowl. And-"

"Where are you going with this, Clare?"

"I don't think you should send this Eleanor off into the Fowl Fandom. He's pretty much the only character we look after who _doesn't _need our help. He's got Butler."

"Butler had a nervous breakdown last time you met."

"Oh, yeah."

"We still need Slayers in the Fowl fandom. Christmas fics will start appearing in less than twelve hours, our time."

God forbid.

"Just to keep mistletoe out of the Manor, and snowstorms from sealing them in."

"She wants to go to Port Douglas with her family. I say, let her."

"Who can go in? You don't think I haven't looked? America has covered Christmas for the past five years. They say it's our turn, and England agrees."

"Why doesn't England do it?"

"Covered for the five years before that."  
"Ah. Do we have any Jewish people?"

"Nope, checked."  
"Crazy parents?"

"No." Amelia typed away on her computer, then turned the screen to face me. "We need a young woman with experience. Guys just don't cut it there, Angeline Fowl doesn't hire them. They're all blocked out, apart from Eleanor. Most of them missed New Years and a birthday. Eleanor didn't."

"I'll go."

I didn't mean to say it. I love Christmas at home. We all go to my aunt's place and they have a pool and a Wii. And for once, no one argues and-

"You? You'll go?"

I sighed. "It's probably going to be my last Christmas with the Slayers anyway. I'm over this."

Amelia picked up her pen, then dropped it. "Why?"

I smiled at her. "You know why."

"Well…sorry. Yeah."

"So, what's the mission exactly?"

"Fowl manor. Stay there from the first of December till the thirteenth, come home for the fourteenth-"

I picked up the file and flicked through it. "Yep. Back in on the fifteenth, till the twenty-eighth. Someone else comes in. Stop Holly from visiting. When this fails – shouldn't that be if – halt all romantic activities. These are listed over the page."

"Don't read those out loud."

I glared at Amelia. "I wasn't planning on it. I'll go ring my mum and pack."

"Thanks for this, Clare. Hey, I wouldn't even try stopping Holly visiting. Hayley tried once, she was fired."

"I won't. I better get a damn big Christmas basket."

I took the file and left Amelia's office. The Commanders office is up a flight of steps and overlooks the whole work area. Because of the extra height (oh, it was so nice to feel tall) I could see Eleanor's cubicle. She looked up at me, and I grinned.

"ELEANOR!" I yelled. "YOU'RE GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS! AIN'T THAT SWELL?"  
"SHUT UP, CLARE!" shouted Amelia.

"SCREW YOU, COMMANDER!"

**So. People who are wondering what happened to the Twilight story…all will be revealed, very slowly. We're going straight into PLOT PLOT PLOT next chapter, and I'm actually looking for Christmas fic clichés. I have twelve, but if there are any that really tick you off, let me hear about them…in a REVIEW!**

**Also, references. One for the Turtles (they're a band) one for Mr. John Lennon, one for Leviathan and one for Harry Potter. Tell me if you spot them :D**

**-Nicola.**


	2. Do We Have Any Turpentine?

**I feel plot. It is a good feeling. Enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER: Ich bin nicht Eoin Colfer.**

**The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas**

**Chapter Two: Do We Have Any Turpentine?**

_In which Clare turns blue and is a chubby Irish toddler, Artemis offers to help and Eminem makes a brief cameo._

_**Excerpt from ARTEMIS FOWL: SUITS, SEX AND SONG by Kasey Allard, page 19**_

"_Artemis Fowl was, and is a special case. In the pre-reveal days, his fandom was almost self-policed, and so contained minimal danger to Slayers, Fangirologists and Canonists. All this changed when Private Hannah Lynch was assigned to guard the title character…"_

_December 1st_

"I didn't want to come."

"I can tell. Your body language is very closed off, hostile-"

"I'll throw something at you. That hostile enough for you?"

"How was your journey?"  
"Uneventful. Quick. I literally left Australia twenty minutes ago."

"Excellent. I would really like to examine the equipment your organization uses to-"

While Artemis waffled on about the uses and applications of our MURPC systems, I unpacked.

"And an end to world hunger." he concluded, as I stuck my bags under the bed. "I trust you find the room comfortable?"

"It has a window, a carpet and closet space. Three things more than my room at base."

Artemis nodded. "Major Martin-"

"Miss Martin, or Clare. None of that military jargon." I paused. "Preferably Clare."

"Very well. Dinner will be in half an hour – my parents would like to meet you properly."

I nodded, and waved him off. Or I tried to, anyway. Artemis stood in the doorway like…something that stands in doorways and looks imposing. I didn't want to say police officer, especially in comparison with Artemis Henry Winston Fowl the Second.

"Why didn't you send Private Lynch?"

I smiled at him. "Oh, Artemis. Every time you see me, you ask that. And what do I say?"

"'None of your business, you skinny Irish nerd.'"

"Correct, as per usual."

Finally, he left, and I pulled a face. Angeline Fowl had given me an outline of my required work. It included vacuuming, tea-making, sweeping, dusting and occasional picture straightening. I would also be assisting Angeline with decorating for the Fowl's own Christmas party.

I stuck the list to my mirror, then glared at my reflection. The bomb had barely touched me, but I still had a scar along one cheekbone, stretching into my ear. Yes, the chewed one. That side of my face was the unluckiest side-of-face in the world. I fluffed up my spike and tried to smile.

Right.

Dinner.

Lecker.

Before I left the room, I grabbed a few chocolates out of my bag. Ok. To the twins room.

_****_

"So, Miss Martin, what brings you to Ireland?" asked Mr Fowl.

"I'm backpacking, and I have family here, so I figured I'd stop traveling for the holidays."

"Oh. Would we know them?"

I shook my head. "They're not a big family, and not very…wealthy, either."  
Awkward.

Well, so I thought. The Fowl family (apart from Artemis and Butler) chuckled, happy with their money and Irishness.

"Do you know when you'll get back to Australia?" asked Artemis.  
"Well, I'm moving on about halfway through January." I said. "Going to R-" Don't say Russia, don't say Russia-"Romania, then to Albania."

I was deliberately overdoing my Australian accent as I talked, as Canonists theorized Angeline thought it was endearing. I sounded like Paul Hogan if he was drunk.

Which is pretty much the same as Paul Hogan sober, now that I think about it.

"Will you go to university back in Australia?" asked Artemis. "I know Melbourne has some splendid schools."

"Yep," I said. "We have lots of people doing their masters there from overseas. I think I will, I'll probably do teaching. I love children."

"Well, Beckett certainly has warmed to you." said Angeline.

It was true. The (rather chubby) toddler had shoved his high chair down next to my seat. Amazing what a Freddo will do.

"They are the same place, intellectually." Artemis muttered. Angeline glared at him.

I just smiled, angelically. I'm an excellent actress when I need to be.

"And you, Artemis? Will you go to university?"

"Yes. I have, actually."

"Oh, did you do a summer course?"  
Angeline and Artemis Senior hid smiles.

Artemis pursed his lips. "You could say that."

"Cool. So, are there any special things I need to know about Beckett and Myles before tomorrow?"

"Nothing that I can think of. Artemis is having a friend stay for a few weeks. She arrives on the third."

"What's her name?"

"Holly."

I choked on my broccoli. "Nice name," I said, once I could inhale properly.

Artemis hid a smile. "We've known each other for years."

"I bet you have."

His parents simply smiled and ate. I love oblivious people. I wish I was one of them.

_****_

The next day passed without incident. It was nice to walk around Fowl manor and the grounds without having to worry about Mary Sues. No, Christmas was a time for Holly/Artemis shippers, bless their unfulfilled hearts.

Artemis gave me a very half-assed tour of the manor, knowing I probably knew it as well as he. He did point out several of the cleaning cupboards, which I definitely knew better than he did.

Patrol can get boring, and when I was paired with Matt-

"This my study, you will not enter unless I give you express permission."

"Or if your mum sends me."

"Well…yes."

"Or your dad."

"Yes."

"Or if it's Monday afternoon and I have to clean it."

"Correct. Knock first."

"Do you think Colfer believes in Freudian psychology as both you and Holly have serious mummy issues?"

"Holly has mother issues?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you have issues with being raised in an adult free, violence filled, isolated community?"

"You tell me."

Artemis nodded.

"Well, a blind deaf _dwarf _could tell me that."

Angeline passed us both, gave us a nod and a shining smile. I grinned back.

"I'll take you to the library now. You'll be cleaning it after lunch. Mother –"

"Mum."

"_Mother_ requested you vacuum and dust, before, and I quote, 'decking the shelves with boughs of holly.'"

"Fa la la la-"

"Don't. Just…don't."

I didn't, and once we had ascended to the third floor, I tugged a vacuum out of the cleaners cupboard and handed it to Artemis. "Hold that." I said, and found a duster too. "So, where's the room with the books?"

He sighed, and began to walk down the hallway. I studied the duster for a moment – neon green feathers and fluro pink handle, fabulous – and ran after the genius.

"Your mum wants me to make up Holly's room too. Where are you sticking her?"

"On the second floor, the fifth guestroom."

"The green one?"

"Yes, the one with the-"

"Isn't that the fourth one?"

"N-no, it's definitely the fifth."

"I'll do it next." I picked up the duster and tossed it into the library. It flipped through the air and narrowly missed a Fangirl, who ducked between two shelves. Oh. That would be an issue.

"Maybe you should take care of…_that _now." Artemis said, as Angeline passed us again.

"It's my job." I said, and pulled the metal pole out of the vacuum cleaner. "Keep the twins away, and I'll see you if I can't find any rope." My belt would do anyway.

Before he could say anything, I slipped into the library and shut the door, holding the pole like a baseball bat.

"Here, Fangirl-Fangirl-Fangirl…"

_****_

_December 3_

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn," I sang, dusting. "That's alright because-"

"You're very flat. Except of course, your C, which is almost on pitch."

I turned around and pitched the duster at Artemis. He ducked as he headed downstairs and I switched to humming. People may think I don't have feelings, but seriously. He could be _mean_.

Then again, he was probably just nervous because Holly was arriving in an hour. Probably.

Wait, what am I saying? Definitely.

"Ah, Miss Martin!" said Angeline, running upstairs. "Here's your duster. Can you be downstairs by ten to help with Holly's bags?"

"Absolutely, Mrs. Fowl. Anything else?"  
"Please, Angeline. Yes. Myles needs a bath, and it's Helen's morning off. Could you-"

"Uh, sure. Now?"

"Yes, now. He's in his laboratory."

I stuck my duster in my room, then whirled. Artemis' lab was next to his study on the second floor, but Myles' lab was a new addition…I clicked my fingers.

"Angeline's third closet."

I ran downstairs to the refurbished closet (about the size of your average classroom) and found Myles sulking on the floor, stuck to the polished tiles with an unholy mix of glue and blue paint. Beckett was nowhere to be found – he'd left nothing but a bucket of the stuff on the bench.

"Beckett James Fowl?" I called. Angeline had left her children like this? God, either she was really neglectful or OOCness was setting in. I really hoped it was the latter.

There was a giggle, but I couldn't pinpoint its location.

"Beckett simple-toon." said Myles. "Clare help me?"

He tried to lift his arms up but they were stuck to his shirt.

"Ok, small child." I tried to lift him up too, but he really was glued down.

"Hmm. What unsticks glue?" I wondered.

Myles named a chemical that sounded dangerous, so I ignored him. I ended up kneeling next to him, pouring warm water on the floor and peeling him off, centimeter by centimeter. In the process I was ruining my new black pants. My new, flattering black pants. My new, wonderful, just the right size black pants."

"Faster, I wanna meet Holly."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I wanna new pair of pants."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Beckett toddle-run (basically a stoggur done by a two year old) out into the corridor.

"BECKETT!" shrieked Myles, and began to sob.

I stood up and poured more water into a (hopefully clean) beaker. Kneeling back down, I smiled at the tearful kid. "So, how shall we get revenge on Beckett?"

Myles stopped sniveling and looked up at me. "Now you are speaking my lang-wich."

He was adorable when he was being evil. I suggested a few choice acts while peeling him off the floor. After a few more beakers he came free and I picked him up, ignoring the blue smears he left all over my top.

Artemis just happened to be standing outside. "What happened to you two?"

"Beckett happened." I said. "It's half to ten, right? I have to give this one a bath, but I should be downstairs in time to help Holly with her bags."

"I would rather you didn't meet Holly."

I shifted Myles to the other hip. "I would rather do my job, which is to protect you and Holly. And to bathe this fine specimen of toddler-ness."

"Toddlerness is not - would you like my help?"

"Oh no. Arty. You'll get dirty hands."

"Don't call me-"

"And I need you to clean up that paint. What does clean up paint? I can do blood, vomit, spit, urine, bile, plasma, vitreous humor, phlegm and brain fluid but paint is kind of weird for me."

"Methylated spirits or mineral turpentine for oil based paints. If it can be cleaned with water, it's acrylic paint."

"Good. If you see Beckett, ask him what he put on his brother. Thanks."

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Why are you offering?"

"Ah-"

"Go pace, or pick lint, or whatever you do when you're worried. I am going to go strip your brother and stick him in a bucket."

"A noble pastime."

"Better than stabbing fictional constructs. Oh, while you're here – no one should go in the Z section of the library till I say so."

"Shall I take you to the twins bathroom?"

I didn't actually know where that was. "Yeah, could you?"

We were halfway through running a bath for Myles (I found Beckett pretending to be a vase in the hallway) when the doorbell rang.

Artemis and I both froze. He dropped the talcum powder.

"Go! Run! Schnell!" I said, shooing him out.

And he did run, and it wasn't pretty. He looked like a ragdoll in a blender.

"I wonder how he dances." I said to Myles. "Right. In the tub. No, hang on. I'm getting Beckett. He can have a bath too, because I know he hates them."

I left the smarter child writing equations in shaving cream and saw Beckett run downstairs.

"Right."

In the end, it was quite lucky Beckett ran downstairs because as we reached the balcony that overlooked the entrance and I caught the little bugger (rugby moves were involved. Nothing more will be said on the matter.) I managed to look over the edge, Beckett squirming under my arm and see Artemis and Holly deep in conversation, their heads far too close to each other to be platonic.

Also, they were holding hands. As I watched, Artemis brushed a few flakes of snow off Holly's head. She giggled and they hugged.

Hmmm. I put Beckett down.

"You got Myles. You got me by association. Do you think you could get Artemis for me?"

Beckett, on the verge of tears (like brother, like…brother, I guess), looked up at me and grinned.

"Oh, you're a chubby Irish toddler version of me." I said.

I delivered his bucket of paint and went up to deal with Myles. He claimed to have solved Landau's problems, so I stuck him in the water and gave him a duck while he talked. This Landau guy had issues.

Finally, I heard someone yell, "BECKETT!" at a volume that would make Kirk jealous.

"That's my cue." I said to Myles. "Out of the bath. If you drown, I don't get paid."

I raced downstairs to find Beckett squirming in Butlers grip, Holly and Artemis doused in blue paint. Artemis was simultaneously apologizing to Holly and lecturing Beckett on social etiquette. Fat lot of good that would do. He trailed off as I approached.

"…So, that's where he got to. Hi." I said, sticking my hand out for Holly to shake. "I'm Clare Martin. I'm the new maid."

"Ma-Miss Martin, take Beckett upstairs and bathe him, please?" Artemis wiped a bit of paint off his tie. Armani. Damn.

"I got four! I got four!" sang Beckett as I took him from Butler, who was trying not to grin.

"And stop him singing that."

I hustled the child upstairs and stuck him and Myles in, clothes and all.

"You got four, you got four." I sang to Beckett.

Then.

"Don't ever do that again."

He giggled. Myles looked at his duck for a moment, then laughed too.

"I like you guys so much more than your brother."

"You're at the same intellectual level," Artemis grumbled, stomping past.

I grinned.

Moment ruined, mission accomplished.

I needed to text Amelia.

**Too long? Not long enough? Please stop writing? Please have my children?**

**Feedback is appreciated. I haven't really been around small children a lot (something about dangerous for both sides) but Beckett and Myles aren't exactly normal.**

**I don't know. Please, I love reviews :D**

**-Nicola.**


	3. Do We Have A Way Out?

**Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not the owner of these characters.**

**The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas**

**Chapter Three: Do We Have A Way Out?**

_In which Clare does unspeakable things with can openers, nearly kills a mockingbird and reads chapters that are short._

_December 5_

It had been two days since Holly had arrived. I had said a grand total of seventeen words to her, as Artemis had sent the regular nanny away early (she was ecstatic) and assigned me to Twin Watching Duty, and during their naptimes, attic-cleaning duty. He thought he was being some kind of evil genius. I didn't mind. I _loved_ it. I got to play cars, pirates, ninjas, pirates vs. ninjas and hide and seek. In a five storey mansion, hide and seek is ridiculous fun.

So, it was cool. As far as I could tell, Artemis and Holly were not having a good time. It was awkward between them normally, but in betwixt twin and attic duties (as well as my usual cleaning) I'd managed to slip chicken stock or bacon into every single one of Holly's meals.

Yes. It was mean. It was cruel. But it meant they couldn't wander off and talk because Holly was too busy gagging and brushing her teeth.

But that morning, I'd woken up because I was absolutely freezing. I'd gotten dressed in two pairs of pants and a coat before checking the time.

Five-thirty.

Both excellent and non excellent. It was ridiculously early, but it meant I could go screw up Holly's breakfast with no risk of getting caught. I slipped out of my bedroom, silent as a Barry, and tiptoed downstairs, wishing I'd put socks on. I nearly cried out when I touched the bare stone floor in the entrance hall. Jesus, how did people live in the Northern Hemisphere?

Finally, I made it to the kitchen and switched on the light. I wrapped my feet in tea towels, fastened them with bin ties, and opened the fridge.

Air that almost felt warm swirled out. Right. Holly would have cereal later, so I needed to get rid of the milk. I tipped the stuff down the sink – one of the twins would get the blame. I then rummaged through the 'Savory' pantry (coincidentally, the one I'd once trapped Butler in) and found a tin of lard.

Yeah, that would do. It was even on a low shelf, making it even likelier Myles or Beckett would get it. They wouldn't even be punished. Angeline was too soft – no wonder Artemis was off kidnapping fairies when he was eleven. Well, spare the rod, spoil the child.

I tipped the lard into the bottle, wrinkling my nose. For good measure I mixed in some tomato sauce and a few flakes of blue paint.

The deed done, I slipped off my tea towels and headed back to my room.

I knew I wouldn't sleep, so I blocked the crack under the door with a pillow and turned on a light. Might as well read the new Maximum Ride novel.

_Excerpt from 'Omega – A Maximum Ride Novel,' pages 1-5._

"_**CHAPTER ONE**_

_I opened my eyes, and sat up._

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

_It was morning, and I was in bed._

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

_Suddenly!_

_**CHAPTER FOUR**_

_Omega appeared, and he had a machine gun._

_**CHAPTER FIVE**_

_Then I realized it was just a dream."_

Riveting stuff. I was at chapter 218, page 114, when I heard Beckett wake up at seven and start throwing things at his brother. That kid was me all over.

My day had begun.

The maid/nanny bits, anyway.

I found my thermal gear (buried way down the bottom of a drawer) and put those on under my regular clothes, a white shirt and a non-blue pair of black pants. After putting on two pairs of socks and flats I made my way to the twins room.

Beckett had climbed out of bed and was attempting to dress himself, so I ignored him and checked on Myles. He blinked up at me from a liberal covering of teddy bears and frowned.

"Breakfast?

"Breakfast," they chorused. Myles dressed himself, and I helped Beckett get his pants off his head and on his legs.

We made our (very slow) pilgrimage to the kitchen, where I found Butler tipping lard-milk down the sink, a scowl on his face. Artemis was sitting at the table, glaring at an omelet of some description.

"Morning, Mr. Fowl." I chirruped, sitting the twins up at the table. "Where is Miss Short?"

"Vomiting."

"Ah." Romantic. "I was thinking of taking the twins to the horses today, is that ok?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Butler threw the milk bottle into the bin. "We're snowed in, Miss Martin. I'm going out in a minute to try and shovel it away, but it's pretty deep."

I went over to the window and peered out.

"Oh. Ow."

There was white stuff everywhere, built up to the windows bottom ledge. I felt like I was at the Bonneville Salt Flats - I'd visited once, with Matt.

"So, no going outside?"

"You don't deal with snow very often."

We do get a bit of snow in Aussie-land, in winter. But even for an Aussie, I haven't had a lot of experience with snow. Sure, I've fought in it several times, which has made my opinion of it quite low (and the snow quite red) but that's about the extent of it.

I'd never been to the snow for fun, though. My parents tried to take me once, but the day before the trip, a Mary Sue had taken to me with a shovel. You can't frolic in the snow with a concussion and snapped arm, so my parents took my brother and sister instead.

Hey. Fair's fair.

Anyway.

"Only a couple of times."

"Breakfast!" cried Beckett, as Butler stuck a bowl of warm porridge in front of him.

"Icky garson." said Myles. Butler gave him one too. "Mercee bow-coo."

Holly entered the kitchen, looking pale and chewing something minty.

"How did I not see that?" she asked.

I ignored her, and tried to keep Beckett from giving himself a facial.

"Any extra tasks for me this morning, Mr. Fowl?"

Artemis was gazing at Holly, who was gazing back. Butler was playing at being oblivious.

"Mr. Fowl?"

Still gazing.

Beckett flung his bowl on the floor, where it (anticlimactically) cracked into a dozen pieces. The noise tore Artemis and Holly away from each other.

"I may need your help shoveling the driveway, Miss Martin," said Butler.

"That's all I needed to hear."

_****_

Butler decided he didn't need my help after I fell over for the seventh time. Turns out, concrete gets slippery in winter.

I had a shower, and once feeling had returned to my face and feet (again, how do people LIVE in the Northern Hemisphere?), my mind returned to the mission.

I reached under my bed, pulled out my suitcase and removed the false bottom. After pulling the case file out, I checked for the hair I'd left trapped between two pages. It was still there, and in the same position. Right. I flipped through the pages, scanning for…there it was. Snowed in. If it was impossible for the dynamic duo to venture outside they liked to hole up in the library. In rare cases, they would retreat to the home cinema. In either instance, it meant snuggling on couches and deep and meaningful talks.

And making out, but…picturing Artemis making out with anyone was like imagining Justin Bieber looking manly. Almost impossible, and when it did happen, full of fire and pain.

Ignoring the sense I wasn't making, I took my duster and went for a walk. It was Sunday, so I'd have to vacuum the third floor and then help Angeline with the lights in the entry hall. I made a mental note to put more socks on before that venture.

A quick trip into the twin's room and I was set to vacuum and break up romantic moments…at the same time!

I am woman – I can multitask. Who do you think I am, Matt?

Oh. I frowned and looked out the window at the white grounds. I'd made myself sad.

"Miss Martin, shouldn't you be cleaning?"

"On my way there now, Master Fowl."

"Is everything OK? Is the…thing you clean with broken?"

I turned to Artemis' dad. "This? This is a duster, it's working fine. Just needs to uh…recharge?"

"Ah. I could get Artemis to create one that powers itself from friction."

"I think this will be fine. I don't want to bother the young master."

"True. But he's a nice boy, when you speak to him. I believe he's fond of Miss Short, don't you?"

I nodded vigorously. "Very much so, sir."

Resisting the urge to salute, he made his way downstairs and I skipped to the library.

Thankfully, Artemis was chilling in there by himself, reading a dusty tome in another language.

"Dutch?" I guessed.

He looked at me and said something that sounded vaguely European.

"I'll take that as a…no?"

He looked down at the book. I sighed, and wandered off. Once I was out of Artemis's eye line I reached into my pocket and pulled out the toys I'd liberated from Beckett and Myles. I had toy soldiers, Lego blocks, marbles and little cars.

**Question**: What did they have in common, apart from being used in my scheme?

**Answer**: All of them are ridiculously inappropriate for children their age, but whatever. Angeline was a worse mother than Lindy Chamberlain.

I dropped them on the plush carpet, stuck them in books, and generally scattered them throughout fiction and non-fiction. Finally I found myself in the 'Z' section. The small, stained glass window by the Zoology books was smashed through. So the Fangirl had made her own way out.

I too, made my own way out. Through the double doors. I was smart like that.

_****_

I timed it so I was vacuuming outside the library doors when Holly entered, in black leggings and a clingy green jumper. It could have been cashmere; I'm not sure. I gave her a nod as she heaved the doors open (they were solid oak. In the event of a Sue invasion, the library was the place to barricade oneself) and made her way in.

I finished the rest of the hall, counted to seventeen by twos and then burst in. I heaved the vacuum along the carpet, hitting it on the ground with thumps. I muttered swear words in English and German. I fell over a chair.

I pretty much overtook Elliot Reid as a moment killer. Finally, concealed behind the 'A' shelf, I peeped at Holly and Artemis. It was not pretty. They had been leaning on each other until my entrance, when they'd jumped apart as if someone had electrified the plush, faux-leather sofa.

I let them relax for a moment, making a show of plugging the vacuum in. I paused, put an open Mars Bar on top of a book called Alcestis.

Then I stepped on one of my toy soldiers and shrieked. Holly twitched. Artemis pretended he hadn't.

"Mr. Fowl?"

"Yes, Miss Martin?"

I picked up the soldier (his little gun had snapped. Awww.) And a marble. "Can you please tell your mother not to let the little ones play in here? I can see melted chocolate on an Euripides."

"I shall tell mother to bar the twins." Artemis didn't look up from his book.

"No respect for literature," I muttered.

"Are you a fan of the classics, Miss Martin?" Holly asked.

"Yes I am, Miss. Dickens, Shakespeare, Charlotte Bronte, Currer Bell…are you?" Twenty-nine words.

"You could say I am. I really like Harper Lee. She shows the horrible and the wonderful sides of humanity in one book, so wonderfully. Yes. It's beautiful. Don't you agree?"

"Yes Clare, don't you agree?" asked Artemis.

He knew…I'd never read Bronte or Dickens. I'd never had the time, or inclination. You don't get many Sues in Great Expectations.

Who the hell was Harper Lee? The name was so damn familiar…

I took a stab. "Yes, completely. Beautiful prose?" Thirty-three words exchanged. I made a note to add it to my tally.

Holly smiled. "I agree."

Just to piss Artemis off, I spent an extra half hour in the library, ruining their afternoon with extra gusto. I stomped, I stepped on toys, I swore in all the languages I knew (four – English, German, Australian and teenager) I picked the toys all up, switched the books in the 'V' and the 'X' sections – no one would notice, anyway – and finally, vacuumed. For an hour and a quarter.

Take that, genius boy.

_****_

Artemis caught me sneaking out of my room the next morning.

"You seem to be laboring under the mistaken impression that you've outwitted me."

I dropped the tin of cat food I was holding, but caught it before it hit the floor.

"Jesus, you're lucky I didn't stab you."

"You're unarmed."

That's what he thought. I can do unspeakable things with can openers.

"Holly suspects you are a spy, ex-military. Perhaps working for Opal."

I shook my head. "How could she tell? Elves can't read minds."

"She says you walk like a soldier."

"She hasn't got any proof. Real proof, I mean."

Once I'd completely suppressed the urge to do unspeakable things to that insufferable child, I smiled too.

"She's got one thing wrong, though."

"And that is?"

"I ain't military. I'm a Slayer, and that's so much better than military. Or police. I don't believe in police, I just believe in me."

"Are you finished massacring quotes?"

"Are you done stopping me from doing my job? I know you haven't worked a day in your life, but some of us have cat food to mix into cornflakes."

"I have liberated all of Holly's food from the kitchen. You don't know this house as well as you claim to, Major Martin."

I patted my pockets for the can opener. I'd left it in my drawer. I retreated into the warmth of my room, where Artemis followed and closed the door.

"Oh God, really?"

"I won't stop you doing your assigned mission. But please, stop endangering Holly's health."

I really didn't have the time or inclination to argue with Artemis, so I straightened his tie (yes. Dressed at pre-dawn) and found my can opener.

"I didn't want a mission over the holidays. I wanted a nice, easy Christmas at home, with my family, who I haven't seen out of hospital in a month and a half. I gave it up so a little girl could go home."

"That's rather noble of you."

"It was an accident. So now I'm here, and you can either stay away from Holly and give me a mini break in Ireland or keep doing what you're doing. Since you're being influenced by quite frankly, a ridonkulus amount of Christmas Romance fic, I will cut you a break. But here's the deal." I said, and took a deep breath. "I will give you every meat-based product I have in this room, apart from the beef jerky which I'm eating. I will then give you this can opener. In return you will attempt to stay one foot away from Captain Holly Short at all times. No touchies. You will endeavor to stay away from places that could be construed as romantic. This includes any and all pianos, violins and guitars, the library if it is otherwise empty and for the love of God, balconies under the moonlight. There will be no giving of gifts that aren't ridiculously practical. You will not buy her anything like jewellery or perfume."

"Fairies don't use perfume. Ambergris is derived from-"

"Whales. No painting of portraits, no romantic black and white photography. No gallivanting off to look at Christmas lights. No snowfights. No tree hanging unless Beckett and Myles are there to screw things up. No horse riding. No-"

"I have a feeling this deal is slight unbalanced."

"You can have one of my Slayer-engineered throwing knives." I sighed. "Specially forged in the fires of Mount Doom."

He gave me a look.

"What? One was. Also, no being naked. At all."

"How am I meant to-"

"Hamish and Andy did it. You should be able to, too."

**Hamish and Andy are a comedy duo from Australia (but they've caravanned across the UK and America. They do a lot of weird things – for example, once Andy was made blind and Hamish deaf for fifty hours. But the event I'm referencing in the no nakedness bit is when they spent a week strapped to each other pretending to be conjoined twins. **

**It made life a bit awkward.**

**Sorry for the long explanation but my beta didn't get it, and if an Australian doesn't get it, what chance do you guys have?**

**I could have also deleted the reference, but it makes me laugh.**

**Lindy Chamberlain. One sentence, five words. "A dingo's got my baby!"**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Nicola.**


	4. Do We Have Any Napkins?

**Short one today, sorry :D Chapter Five, originally titled Do We Have Any White Flags? will be longer. And contain action. And a certain red head who isn't named Holly.**

**DISCLAIMER: Insert wit here.**

**The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas**

**Chapter Four: Do We Have Any Napkins?**

_In which there is pizza, things that happen vigorously and Clare acts like a stalker._

_December 7_

I was jolted from sleep by a tinny ringing – my phone. My faithful link to the real world. Also a waker of sleepers, making it into a little bastard. I vaguely considered throwing it out the window, but it was frozen shut. I sat up, exposing my neck to the freezing air. God, couldn't they afford heating? I knew Angeline liked Prada, but…

And just to make things a bit worse-

Twas Amelia.

"This better be important." I said.

"How is everything?"

I lay down and curled up, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Against my better judgment, I'm going to say it's good. I have an undercover operative by the name of Beckett." I didn't think to mention my handing over of the meat-products. Amelia was all for doing things by the book. My old mentor, Grace, and I were into slightly more unorthodox methods. Needless to say, Grace and Amelia didn't get along.

"I thought that he'd be useful."

"He tipped paint all over Artemis and Holly."

Amelia laughed, then remembered it was unorthodox and frowned. I could somehow hear it over the phone. No, I don't know how.

"How are things back home?"  
"Good." she said. There was a click and the phone was put on loudspeaker. I heard a bunch of kids yelling their way through the Batman version of Jingle Bells. Another click and it was one on one again. "We had twelve kids leave this morning, but it's still pretty full. We've got six coming back from long-term undercover operations this afternoon. Two are from Maximum Ride."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

"Well, I've got to go. We're surrounded by snow, and I have to find something to entertain Beckett and Myles that doesn't involve too much mess or too much sabotage of their brother's love life. I don't want to turn them into agents of evil."

"Good luck."

"I'll need it."

…_**.**_

I ended up introducing Myles to Barbie dolls (found in the attic) and playing cars with Beckett.

"Vroooom, beep! Out of my ways, Becks!"

"Wee-oo-wee-ooo!"

"Giselle, you will look so much more amazing in the blue one."

Yes. Yes she would.

"Try her in the pink mini, Myles." I suggested, stopping at a petrol station with my bright yellow Ferrari.

"Please, she would look tacky."

Hmmm. I checked the time. Half past ten.

"I must leave you now, boys. Time for Clare to go clean…the bathrooms. Yes, not Artemis's room at all."

Myles was too focused on plaiting Rapunzel Barbie's hair to even look at me suspiciously. I patted Beckett on the head, collected my duster and skipped upstairs to Artemis's room.

I slowed to a walk as I reached the heavy, dark door and knocked a couple of times. No answer.

Excellent.

Except the door was locked. Untrusting little…I smiled, pulled a bobby pin from my pocket and slid it into the silver lock. Four minutes later, with a couple of judiciously applied kicks, the door was open and the lock mostly intact. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. Artemis's room was pretty simple – dark green carpet and off white walls, with a massive four poster bed. There was a painting with lots of lines and a green lady hanging by the wardrobe. I assumed it was a recreation, but when it comes to Artemis Fowl, who knows?

Hmm. I turned to the wardrobe, built into the wall opposite the bed and opened it. No clothes. There was a massive plasma TV and four DVD players.

I wandered over to the huge floor to ceiling window and the desk beside it.

There were no papers or books out, just a closed silver laptop and a pen. Hmmm. I opened the drawers – nothing but folders and books in foreign languages. I recognized French, German (of course), Italian and Mandarin. Maybe there would be something in those folders.

And there was. Oh boy. For the sake of plot and to keep some mystery in the fic, I won't tell you what. By the time I'd finished skimming through the first two in the top drawer, it was half past eleven. I'd have to leave in a minute.

Remembering something Hannah had once mentioned, I shut the drawers carefully and headed over to Artemis's bed. He had those fancy matching bedside tables, two drawers in each. These were empty as well, but when I peered under the bed, I found them. Some were dusty, but some were new and glossy. I flipped through them, trying not to laugh. Sex And The City 2: The Novelisation, Nancy Drew and the Curse of the Blue Diamonds, Shrek The Movie Novel.

Yep. Each to his own. I slid the books back under the bed and headed back to the door. I'd have to pay a visit when Artemis was out of the house. Think of me as Santa – Santa with an X-Ray scanner and proper lockpicks.

"Are you guys getting hungry?"

Beckett flung his hands up in the air and cried, "Pizza!"

Myles simply nodded. I pulled a shoe out of his hair and ushered them downstairs.

"What do you feel like for lunch?" I asked Beckett. Myles was in front of us – he'd mastered the stairs at sixteen months. Beckett, on the other hand, was too lazy to climb up or down the pre-dug shafts.

"Pizza pizza pizza."

"Would you like to learn a song about pizza?"

He nodded vigorously. I smiled, and as we reached the entry hall (still only half decorated with lights and holly), I thought all the way back to Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code.

I guess it was lucky I'd been focusing on the next Batman film to come out, because I couldn't remember the pizza song. This meant I wasn't singing it when I opened the kitchen door to find Artemis and Holly doing something…something _wrong_.

…_**.**_

They were cooking.

"Jesus!" I said, putting Beckett in his high chair. "Would it kill you to put the lid on the blender? There's jelly everywhere."

And there was. Red jelly dripped from the ceiling, the walls. Myles picked up a blob and licked it.

"Crannleberry." he said.

"Oh." I stared down Artemis and Holly, who hadn't even bothered to turn around. "Excuse me?"

"We're icing cupcakes. One minute."

I poured the twins cups of milk, screwed their little sippy lids on top and handed them over. I found a mop. I found a bucket.

I waited.

I waited some more. The duo continued to ice and whisper.

"Pizza?" asked Beckett.

I checked the two freezers. "Sorry Becks, no pizza. How about pancakes?"  
Beckett looked at Myles. Myles looked at Beckett. They nodded.

"Becks?" asked Artemis.

"Yes, Becks. He likes being called that, don'tcha?"

Beckett was drinking his milk.

Finally Artemis gave me some of his attention.

"What are you doing? I cleaned in here yesterday, and now you're messing it up with cranberry jelly and-"

"Cranberry sauce."

"And cranberry sauce and your pie has exploded." I pointed at the oven, the inside of which was decorated with orange goo.

"Ah."

"Ah yes. Would you like me to skip cleaning the attic and do in here again?"

Holly pushed past Artemis and pulled open the oven. "I'm sorry," she said, grabbing mitts. "We can clean it up, we made the mess."

I pulled a frying pan down from a hook on the wall, thinking of the time I'd cleaned a kitchen with Matt.

"Absolutely not." I said, recalling towel flicking and bubble fights. "You're on holiday, Miss Short. Sorry to have made such a fuss, Mr Fowl."

Oh, how I hate to apologise.

"It's perfectly fine, Miss Martin."

I started to work around the pair, and made pancakes for the twins and myself. As I cleaned up (pity Artemis wasn't paying attention then) I pulled out my mobile and set up the camera so it would transmit video to my laptop. I hid it in a high, glass fronted cabinet.

"Well," I said, lifting Beckett out of his high chair. "Call me when you're finished."

"Yes. Thanks, Miss Martin."

"My pleasure, Miss Short. My pleasure."

…

Artemis and Holly had been baking all morning, and continued well into the afternoon. They made six kinds of cake, seven batches of cupcakes, nine kinds of pie and fifteen trays of biscuits. They fed each other. They flicked batter around. They leaned across and dabbed icing off each others faces. I nearly flung the damn computer across the room with the cheesiness of it.

"Whatcha watching?"

"Hmm?" I looked over at the twins, who were staring at me.

"Nothing." I said. "Go back to Finding Nemo."

And they did, and I was free to eye-roll and feel like a voyeur in peace. As long as there were no lips involved, I'd let Artemis do what he wanted.

Of course, he didn't know that I'd be staking out his room that night.

**Again, sorry for the brevity. Ah, well. Thanks for reading, and all the wonderful reviews!**

**-Nicola.**


	5. Do We Have Any White Flags?

**I have had very, very limited experience with snow (i.e. one afternoon in late winter, seven years ago), so excuse any serious errors I make with this chapter. **

**DISCLAIMER: No. Just…no.**

**The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics Of Christmas**

**Chapter Five: Do We Have Any White Flags?**

_In which there is a kiwi, it counts, Clare experiences déjà vu and there is vomit to be dealt with._

"Hey! Over here!" I shouted.

The figure half turned. Silhouetted against the sky, it seemed even bigger. If that was, you know, at all possible. _Jesus_.

"HERE! ME!"

Eventually she made up her mind. Twila faced me and began to lumber in my direction, under the bridge. Just where she needed to be. OK. Good.

"You done yet?" I yelled. Not that I needed to – the person I was speaking to was a couple metres to my left, crouching behind some rocks.

"Done done done. Yes!" he called back. "You got two and a half minutes."

"Ok." I said, bouncing on my toes. "GO!"

John dove over the rocks and bolted for the exit. I turned a cartwheel (landing it perfectly for once) and waved my arms like a spaz. All the while I was counting down from one hundred and eighty seconds. Once Twila was within grabbing distance (her grabbing distance, not mine) I began to back away, veering slightly to the left.

This would have worked. Except for the Something that grabbed me from behind and pulled me back, back into the darkness…

_December 10_

…Someone was tapping me.

"Goddammit Beckett! I was having a flashback!"

As if it was an apology, he stuck a car in my face. I took it and spun the wheels absently.

Myles sneezed and snuffled.

I had finally made my decision. On my departure, I was going to give Angeline Fowl the 'Most Negligent Parent' award; a trophy prized amongst rich idiots and B-List celebrity parents. In the past three days Angeline had left the twins with me whilst she'd headed off to an Irish city that wasn't Dublin, and so, the name escaped me. Before she'd left though, she'd let Beckett and Myles run around in the snow without hats on.

Mistake. There's a reason why I don't head outside in minus temperature without a whole wardrobe on. They'd caught a cold and I'd been up for two nights looking after them.

Maybe it hadn't been a flashback. Perhaps it'd been a hallucination.

Myles sneezed, and fell over with the force. Suppressing the urge to make him do it again so I could film it and upload it to YouTube, I left Beckett dribbling and pushing a car along his arm and picked Myles up.

"Want something to eat?"

He squirmed and shook his head.

"Nap?"

He squirmed and shook his head.

"Barbies?"

He considered it briefly, then squirmed and shook his head.

"Nemo?"

"Nemo?"  
"Nemo."

I stuck him in a chair in the home theatre, chucked a blanket over him and put on Finding Nemo for the eighth time in three days. It really made me respect my parents more – when I'd had chicken pox as a kid; I'd watched Basil The Great Mouse Detective seventeen times in a week. That Basil was a fox.

Sorry for the confusing analogy. Anyway.

I left the twins gaping at the screen and hurried downstairs. I'd missed out on breakfast, too busy trying to get them to eat. Artemis and Holly had made no effort to help, and had retired to the library to read some Gothic Fiction. I assumed they meant Anne Rice. I was going to have to vacuum in there again…

I was in the pantry when the phone rang.

"Hello? Ow."

"Hi Clare, tis Alex."

"Oh, hey."

"What's ow?"

"A tin of-" I squinted in the darkness. "Soup. That'll do. What is up?"

"I'm offering my services for the day."

"Are you?" I stumbled from the pantry and was blinded by the lights of the kitchen. "Where are the bowls, and why?"

"I'm going home in two days and if I don't, Amelia's sending me to the Percy Jackson fandom."

I poured the soup (tomato) in a bowl and stuck it in the microwave. "You are not going to the PJO fandom without me and a full battalion, young man. That's out of the question."

"Yes _mum._"

I felt very awkward for a moment, so I distracted myself with a spoon. "I'd like to have you here. Artemis and Holly are planning on going for a walk in the snow once I've made them lunch-"

"You…make lunch?"

"Stop laughing. Anyway, and I can't track them. I can't leave the twins."

"Won't Happy Christmas Story Plot keep them safe?"

"No, these two are free agents. They're just as happy killing moments as they are making them."

"Alright. I'll be there at twelve thirty."

The microwave beeped and I lifted out my soup. Mmmm. "Yes. Good. See you in…Jesus, is it only nine?"

"Not here, but it is where you are."

I hung up on him and headed back upstairs. I'd eat my soup, and I'd vacuum so hard it'd make Hurricane Katrina jealous.

_**pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak **_

After making Hurricane Katrina green with envy (and Artemis red with anger) I forced some soup (chicken noodle. Cliché and classic) down the twins throats.

"Better?" I asked.

Myles nodded.

Beckett retched and threw up on my feet. Thankfully I was wearing shoes. Shaking off the déjà vu I was getting, I sighed, stomped past Holly and Artemis (again, they didn't even notice) and through the caterer's door. I stood there for a while, kicking idly and occasionally scraping the sides of my runners on the stairs. I deal with vomit a lot. Can you tell?

"Miss Martin!" called Artemis. "We're still waiting for our food."

"You can wait just a little longer." I said.

I heard Holly laugh, and Myles sneeze.

Scrape, scrape, scrape. Where was Alex? It was nearly one. I frowned and inspected my shoes. I'd learnt my lesson from Chapter Two and they were a slightly older pair. Clean enough. I was about to turn and go inside again – stupid apprentice – when I caught a glimpse of something red in the distance. Aha.

I went back inside and quickly made cups of tea for Holly and Artemis, before going outside again. Alex was waiting for me in a white coat and blue jeans. Thankfully, they were mostly covered by heavy white boots. Slayer snow gear – white, waterproof, blood proof and guaranteed not to stain. It was kind of like a ducks back.

"Borrowed it from England." he said, and pulled up the hood, covering his hair.

"Yeah, that was probably a good idea." I said. "Look, I have to go clean up sick, but you'll see Arty and Holly when they come out. Just don't let them-"

"I know what I'm looking for. I've worked with you and Matt, remember?"

We both laughed for a second, then we remembered. Yeah.

"Radio?" asked Alex. He offered me a pale grey handheld.

"Don't mind if I do. I've got to get back in. You wait around the fountain, you can see the front door from there."

Alex saluted and jogged off. I scraped my shoes one more time and went back inside.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Fowl. What would you like for lunch?"

"Butler usually decides."

I pursed my lips. "Where _is_ Butler? I haven't seen him for a while."

"Holiday. It's his vacation."

That never happened. Butler would never leave Artemis for…ugh. I'd forgotten I was in a Christmas fic.

"Right. Pasta? Vegetarian, of course."

Holly smiled and nodded.

I set to work. I'd clean up that vomit later.

_**pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak **_

Dishes and a mop and some disinfectant later, I hustled the twins upstairs and into their beds. They were asleep within minutes, and I ran around trying to do my daily clean, something I was ridiculously behind on. I was up on a chair, trying to scare a spider into a vent with a broom when Artemis came up behind me.

"It's venomous," he said.

I turned and jumped down. "It's innocent. As far as I know, it hasn't hurt anyone. I don't kill innocent things…how venomous?"

"Holly and I are going outside for a walk."

"I don't want to come."

"I wasn't inviting you."

"I know. I just wanted to make this conversation awkward. Don't forget your scarf."

"Don't forget yours."

"What makes you so sure I'm gonna follow you?"

"It's your job."

I watched the spider scuttle into the vent and out of sight. Perhaps it symbolized something. Then again, considering it was an Artemis Fowl fanfic, perhaps not.

I watched him walk away. I waited until I heard the huge front door open and slam shut.

And then I pulled my binoculars from behind the vacuum cleaner and ran to the window, peeping through the ugly lace curtain. Artemis, in a black coat and Holly in an emerald, probably coil heated one, made their way down the main path. Right towards the fountain.

Artemis was smart. I was smarter. Or…genre savvier, but that counts. Holly and Artemis kept walking and talking. I squinted. Yep. Holding hands. And let me tell you something, that I think you'll understand. That was not a good thing.

"Alex." I said into the radio. "Wo bist du?"

"Ten metres behind the fountain. I'm half under a snowdrift."

"Funky. Do you see them?"

"…No, I can't see the only dark things in this entire landscape."

"Don't talk back to me."

"I can and…see you."

Artemis and Holly were at the fountain now, tracing things in the frost. I hated that fountain. It was of some ugly bearded man and a dolphin. In winter it looked almost pretty as it was all obscured by snow and frost, with frozen arcs of water. In summer, however, it was foul. I'd been swimming in it – if you can call fighting Sues swimming – and there was mould all over the bottom.

I dragged my chair over and sat, gazing through my binoculars. Through the lenses I could see Alex backing away from the pair by reverse commando crawling, wiping away his tracks with his arm.

Hey, they get more snow in New Zealand, ok? And we've got dirt – red dirt.

"CALARE!" screamed Beckett.

I jumped, and dropped the binoculars. They bounced on the carpet, narrowly missing the-JESUS. The spider had crawled out of the vent and was on the floor by my foot. Without thinking, I damn near flipped out of my chair and slammed my foot down on it.

I shuddered. You know that one shudder you get after you've killed a spider? Even Slayers do it. Then I realized.

"_Fuck_."

I'd just cleaned that floor.

I left the ex-venomous ex-spider oozing on my carpet and ran down to the twin's room, my hands still shaking.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I'm hungry."

Yeah, not worth running for. "Well, I gave you something but you ruined the floor with it. Do you want toast?"

He sniffed, as if that was a proper answer. I reached down and picked him up. He still felt hot.

"How's things, Alex?" I asked on the way downstairs.

"Aren't you at the window?"

"No, moron."

He sighed. Over the radio it was a rush of static. "I'm behind one of the oak trees. The couple is twenty metres away, building a snowman. It's hideous."

I nodded. "Right. Well, I'll be away from the window for-" I glanced at Beckett. He looked seriously grumpy. "About ten minutes. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Where a woman should be."

"Yes, whatever you say." Dick.

"Toast?" I asked.

Beckett sighed. "Spose."

"You spose. Wunderbar."

"Icky gasson."

"Yessir."

"Hank Marvin."

"Indeed." I deposited him in his high chair, and jumped when the intercom clicked on.

"Clare, I'm wake."

"Myles?"

Beckett nodded vigorously. I rolled my eyes and stomped upstairs to get the other Fowl child. I stopped for a quick look out the window. Yep. Artemis and Holly had made a snowman and were in the process of making a snowgirl for it. Him. Whatever.

They were both hideous, by the way. I could've made a better one, considering my prowess with sandcastles. Does talent with sandcastles translate to talent with snowmen? Someone let me know.

_**pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak pagebreak **_

Twins, toast and twenty minutes later, I was getting antsy. I hadn't heard from Alex.

The twins, on the other hand, were looking better. Beckett didn't throw up, so that was a nice change.  
"Nemo?" I asked.

Myles shook his head. "Egypt."

"Mmhmm!" said Beckett. "Prince."

"So you want to travel and you're going to be gay?" I asked. "Funny, my money was on Myles."

Myles sighed just like Artemis. "Prince of Egypt."

"Ah." I said. "Come on, then."

I knew Artemis didn't like them watching films with religious themes, but screw him. It had Ofra Haza in it. It was culture.

I left them parting the Red Sea and went back to the window.

Oh, no.

Artemis and Holly were having a snowball fight. A strangely intimate snowball fight.

"Clare, pick up."

"I'm here."

"What do I do? I can't stop them…well, are you watching?"

"Yep." I watched in horror as Artemis rubbed snow into Holly's hair, and sighed with relief when she ducked and rolled away. "This is terrible. They'll end up rolling around and…I'm coming out there."

"Well, hurry."

I ran to Angeline's second wardrobe and borrowed one of her old coats – white faux fur and floor length– before running to my own room and finding my white skinny jeans. I had one white t-shirt, which I squeezed into, but no white shoes. I did, however, have light grey Converse. White Beanie. No white scarf. I only had my black and red football one.

Screw it.

I found white gloves in the coat pocket and stuck them on, before sliding down the banister and running out the caterers exit, in an arch around Artemis and Holly.

Well, that was the plan. The snow was too deep for a run, so I ended up sort of wading across the yard, keeping low. It was kind of like being in the ocean in Australia, looking out for sharks, jellyfish and stonefish. Except it was cold and I was in a coat.

And beginning to snow, again.

Hmmm.

Moving on. Keeping an eye on Artemis and Holly (they were making snow angels. Losers.), I headed for the row of oak trees. They looked more like massive white mushrooms. Finally, huffing and puffing (and against all natural laws, sweating slightly), I made it behind the first trunk, glanced up, commandoed over to the second tree and _finally_ slumped against it. Alex could come to me - this was a better angle for what I had planned, anyway.

"Right." I said, once he'd made his way through the snow. "What have you got on underneath that coat?"

"Is now the time?"

I glared at him.

"Jeans and like, three jumpers."

I kept glaring.

Alex sighed. "They're blue and red."

"You're a minga."

"Why?"

I sighed, and my breath came out in a cloud. "Jesus. I wanted you to climb that tree and dump snow on them."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Well, I prepared for that eventuality, didn't I? You're the man, Darcy, you're meant to do this stuff. Anyway, I'm-"

"-Getting too old for this? You're getting your L's in February!"

I sighed, and patted my head, checking all of my hair was tucked inside the beanie. "Point taken."

I ran from the second tree to the forth in the row, barely a few metres from where Holly and Artemis had restarted their snow fight. I pulled off the coat and regretted it instantly, before reaching up and climbing into the tree, trying not to shake any of the branches.

"Clare, what are you doing?"

Alex had obviously never had a bucket of cold water dumped on him. After a making a note to rectify this fact, I climbed higher, seeking out one of the thicker, more covered branches. I made it to a rather wide one and crawled along the edge. I tried to ignore the cold, but it felt like my skin was being rubbed with cold sandpaper. I knelt as I reached the end of the branch and peered through the leaves. Just in time. Holly flung a snowball at Artemis. He ducked, and fell flat on his face. Holly ran over and flipped him over. I rolled my eyes and wrapped my arms – rapidly turning purple – around the branch. The bark cut into my wrists but I held tight and watched. Artemis said something mushy to Holly. In reply, she flopped down on his chest.

That was my cue.

I gritted my teeth and jumped off the branch, clinging to it for dear life. Just as I'd expected, a ton of snow slid off the twigs and such and fell down onto Artemis and Holly. I hung there for a second, cold forgotten. Thank you, adrenaline. I watched for movement. When I saw a small brown fist punch its way out of the snow, I lifted myself like I was doing a chin up (on a branch, in jeans, in the snow…) and let go. Once again, snow fell on the pair. I landed and sunk into the ice, before losing my balance and falling against the trunk.

I collected my coat, quickly, patted Alex on the shoulder, said, 'Thanks,' and ran for the Manor. Hopefully the falling snow would cover my tracks.

Hot chocolate beckoned, but first I had to check on the twins.

**I was writing Leviathan drabbles just before I started this, and the amount of times I put 'Alek' instead of 'Alex' was just incredible. Do tell me if there is a Prince of Austria where he shouldn't be, ok?**

**I love Prince of Egypt. It's ridonkulously underrated. Go watch it. It's totally not on YouTube for free.**

**In Australia you are able to get a Learners license when you turn 16, and if you have 120 hours of driving recorded in a special (expensive) book, you can go for your Probationary license when you're 18. This is also the age when you can legally drink. This is an oversight in our laws, I think.**

**But this puts Clare's birthday in February. How nice. **

**I'm starting a little competition that should run for the rest of this fic, and into the next. So, catch the Beatles reference and tell me in a review to be in the running. It's an actual prize this time :D **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Nicola.**


	6. Do We Have Any Tinsel?

**This was an utter **_**bitch**_** to write. And now I'm even more behind schedule because my computer only works for 15 minutes at a time.**

**That's also my excuse for the not-replying-to-reviews-thing I've been doing. I really do appreciate reviews guys, and I've gotten some great ones, so thank you so much :)**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Scott Westerfeld. Hang on…**

**Chapter Six: ****Do We Have Any Tinsel?**

_In which Clare preserves her cover, doesn't come out of the closet, there is a strange conversation that could be taken differently, the Christmas Tree is rocked around and the Lord delivers his people to the Promised Land._

My fists were numb, and felt sticky with blood. I slid down the far wall and stared out into the darkness. There was no way out…

_December 10_

I'd just run back into the kitchen and stuck my hands into the dishwater when Artemis and Holly stumbled through the door, sopping wet, covered in snow and blue in places that shouldn't be blue.

"What happened?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Artemis flicked on the kettle, but because it was empty it didn't light up. "Tea, please. We will be in our rooms."

I nodded, but kept my eyes on the sink until I was alone. Then,

"Oh fucking fuck." I wrenched my hands out of the (literally) boiling water. They were bright red, the veins standing out from the skin. I stuck them under the cold tap and nearly fainted with relief.

After dumping the snow all over Artemis and Holly, I'd sprinted inside, run upstairs, changed clothes, looked in on the twins (still looking at life Through Heavens Eyes) and slid back downstairs. With one minute to spare (I could see the couple staggering home from the window) I'd filled the sink with the water in the kettle and thrown a few pots in there.

Unfortunately, the kettle had just been boiled. Hence the hands. The things I do to preserve my cover – when my earlobe had been bitten off by an OOC Alice Cullen, I'd strolled into an ear-piercing place and said my stud had gotten caught on my shirt.

Then I'd passed out. Ah, those were the days.

I dried my hands and made the tea, left it outside Artemis and Holly's rooms. Beckett and Myles were occupied.

I sighed, and took the opportunity to sit down for five damn minutes.

_December 12_

Angeline was back. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. It was good because she could take care of the twins (I didn't miss them or _anything_), and so I could do the work I was paid for. It was bad because I had to help the crazy woman decorate.

And that was how I found myself polishing the marble floor of the ballroom, missing morning tea and lunch in the process. Yes, the Fowls had a ballroom. No, I hadn't noticed it until that morning. No one had. It was a huge circular room, white marble and gold leaf and swirly carvings.

Polish, polish, polish.

Though the floor was awful fun to slide on.

"Oh my God, Arty and I will have such fun in here! It's ever so romantic!"

I froze mid slide and stumbled.

"I've got the most wonderful dress, too – it shows off my legs and my boobs and matches my eyes!"

My skin crawled as I turned. How could I have missed her getting in.

"It's dark purple, of course, because that's my eye colour. As you can see, because they're so big!"

I completed my turn and there it was – a Mary Sue, white-blonde hair, dressed in 'creative, quirky' clothes – paint covered overalls and a bright t-shirt.

"I suppose this will be the night he sees your inner beauty?" I asked.

"Yes, and we'll have our first kiss on that balcony!" she gestured with a manicured hand. Then she frowned. "You're not after him, too, are you?"

I shook my head. "I'm a…maid. Yes, that's it."

"Well, duh." the Sue shook her head. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I'll go see Artemis in the library."

"No!" I said, and ran past her, blocked the door and locked it. "You should…not see him, and do quirky artistic things until the party…which is in like, ages. Like, a week away. Angeline only sent out the invites this morning."

"I made my dress by hand, you know," said the Sue, taking my arm and walking us out onto one of the balconies.

I shuddered at her soft touch and backed away, glancing around for a weapon. The vases that dotted the edges of the room were Ming or Wing or Fing Dynasty – no chance, Artemis would kill me.

"Where are you going?" the Sue stamped her foot. "Listen to me." She stormed across the room, eyes flashing darker purple. "You, maid. You're a supporting character – FAWN OVER ME!"

The door chose that moment to open, and Artemis chose that moment to enter. The silence after the door clicked shut again was deafening. The Sue and I both turned as one to see him blink in suprise.

"ARTY!"

"Oh, NO YOU DON'T!"

We both ran – she ran at Artemis, I ran at her.

I'm faster.

I tackled her, AFL style and we both came crashing down. Her head cracked against the marble and she went unconscious.

That didn't usually happen. Usually there was beating and tackling and oxygen deprivation and…

"Anti-climatic."

"Usually it's longer." I said, and for some reason I felt embarrassed. "This is weird for me, usually it's full of…actually…"  
Artemis frowned.

"You look disappointed."

He shrugged. "You've always talked yourself up about fighting."

I frowned, took off my jumper and started tying the Sues legs together. "Isn't it good I didn't make a mess?"

"I have to go," he said. "I've got…things to do."

I frowned, and continued to tie.

…_**. …. …. …. …. **_

I disposed of the Sue the best way I could and ran upstairs with a bottle of bleach. I filled a bucket with some water and the aforementioned chemical before throwing in my t-shirt.

And then my phone rang.

"Amelia, this is not a good time."

"Alex says you dumped a ton of snow onto Artemis and Holly."

I slapped my forehead. "That was like a chapter ago. I've got to un-blood four articles of clothing and figure out where Artemis and Holly have run off to."

"Why blood?" Amelia sounded distracted.

"There was a Sue. In the ballroom."

"You have a ballroom?"

"Ich weiss."

"Huh?"

"I know, it's weird." I leant under the bed and found my notes. Other clichés, other clichés…

"Just wanted to clear the fourteenth with you. Where and when do you want the portal?"

"Um…" I leafed through some pages. "Jesus…I want to get back to Australia by about eight AM, so I can get some work done…"

"Pick you up at seven thirty then?"

"No, quarter to. I'll have to lock Artemis somewhere-"

"No you don't."

"You haven't been in a room-" Or a large, open, snowfilled space, "With Artemis and Holly. He's lucky I haven't-"

"Ah, I know what you mean. Like when you and Matt used to come into a room together and-"

I dropped the folder of notes. "Look, I've got to go-"  
"Clare."

"Must dash."

"Major Martin-"

"Fair thee well, Commander."

I clicked off and rifled through the pages. Cliché…here cliché cliché cliché…snowed in, cooking, snow ball fight…tree trimming.

Ah.

Nothing said romantic quite like stringing glass balls onto branches. And I mean that in all honesty.

I kicked the jumble of paper under my bed again and found a new shirt. Butler had dragged the Christmas tree up into the red living room. I remembered because guess who'd had to vacuum up the pine needles?

That's right.

Artemis.

I'd had to settle Beckett who'd broken into the coffee again.

I hurried out of my room and slid down the banister to the second floor. As I passed the cleaners cupboard, I tripped on something and faceplanted.

Odd, because there was nothing to trip on.

I frowned into the rug.

And then something cold was pressed against the back of my neck. Something cold and round.

"Jesus." I said, and got a mouthful of dust and fluff for my efforts. A large hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up, face to face with the one and only Artemis Henry Fowl.

"My middle name is-"

"I don't care what it is." I said. I tried to turn and pull a face at Butler, but he pressed his Sig harder into my neck. "Really, Artemis? Using your bodyguard to threaten a fifteen-year-old girl? This is book two behavior." I tutted.

Artemis frowned. "I'd like one activity with Holly to go smoothly."

"This was the deal. You stop being Mr. Romance and I won't dump snow on you. I'm paraphrasing."

"Butler."

Butler pulled me backwards until I hit my head on the cupboard.

"Before you kill me," I said. "Tripwire?"

Both Artemis and Butler nodded. Butler opened the cleaner cupboard door and shoved me into the empty space.

Which was strange, because I should have fallen on a mop.

"Artemis, where's my vacuum cleaner?"

"You'll never know."

With a smirk, he shut the door, enclosing me in cave-like darkness. I heard the key click in the lock, and heavy footsteps receeding.

"I'll come and get you before dinner." said Artemis. "We're having Moroccan-"

"Let me out."

"…Salad and a light-"

"Artemis. I want to get out, now."

"Pasta with-"

The air was getting rather thick.

"Artemis." I banged on the door, hard.

"Miss Martin."

"Let me out."

"I'm sorry-"

"Let me out!"

"Clare, if I could trust you to-Stop hitting the door, it's solid oak."

I banged my fists on the door, hard, and pictured him leaping backwards. "Let me out. I don't, no, I hate little spaces where-"

"Until six."

"SIX?" I wrenched at the handle. "SIX PM?"

Footsteps, receeding.

Jesus.

"ARTEMIS! ARTEMIS! WAIT!"

I stopped bashing on the door. My fists were numb, and felt sticky with blood. I slid down the far wall and stared out into the darkness. There was no way out…

I don't know how long I sat there for. I only knew two things. 

1. I had gone into the cupboard just after lunchtime. So I would be there for at least five hours.

2. A giant troll was - no. Wrong mission. Artemis and Holly were off having romantic moments in the dozens, and I wasn't there to stop it.

I hate Christmas.

**Sigh. Not my best. Still, I'm going to go for one more chapter tonight and two more before New Years. You should see what I've done to my outline to fit all the stuff I had planned in...**

**Thanks for being so patient!**

**Though, I suppose most of you are used to it…**

**Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas – and/or non-denominational holiday!**

**-Nicola.**


	7. Do We Have Any Wrapping Paper?

**Computer. Homework. Bitten by a whitetail spider. Still no excuse.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Eoin Colfer.**

**The Sue Slayers: The Twelve Fics of Christmas**

**Chapter Seven: Do We Have Any Wrapping Paper?**

_In which James Patterson is accidentally emulated, there are Shippers, Fangirologists wage pointless war, things are said like 'genocide,' and Artemis goes into McDonalds. _

December 14

Long story short, he let me out of the closet eventually. No, I don't want to discuss such trivial matters.

I got my day off and left in a serious huff, arriving back in Melbourne at ten past eight, just when most of the recruits were having breakfast. Most Slayers holidays begin on the twentieth so there were plenty of Artemis/Holly shippers stringing tinsel up around the place and giving me various evil glares. I returned all of them and because I outranked them, they scarpered.

There were, however, three incidents that were the veritable highlights of my day.

**1. A Discussion With Darcy**

"Clare, lunch?"

"Later."

I turned back to the computer screen.

"Lunch?"

"Later."

"I've been waiting for an hour, Clare."

I looked up from my computer, eyes dry and hot. "What time is it?"

"Half past one. This is probably the last time I'll see you before I head back to New Zealand."

Alex did draw a hard bargain. He leant against the doorframe while I grabbed my mobile and wallet. It was drizzling up in Fed Square – I know, I _know_ – so we shared an umbrella.

"Where are we going? My only rule is no seafood."

Alex narrowly avoided a tourist. "No seafood? Italian?"

"Cool."

We walked in silence for a while, avoiding the hordes of grim faced Melburnians.

"We can't go anywhere near Burke Street." I said, when Alex tried to turn. "Myer Windows, remember?"

"Right."

We turned down a different street and into a laneway, where there was an overpriced, if good café.

"What did the Commander want with you this morning?"

I signaled for a waiter. "Nothing, really. Just abusing her power, as usual."

"I've been meaning to ask, and please don't hurt me but did you know a bunch of Artemis/Holly shippers have started a hate campaign against you?"

The waiter did a double take. I smiled at him, mouthed 'crazy,' and took my menu. He ran off and I started looking at pizzas.

"Do I need to remind you about the top-secret organisation thing again, Darcy?"

"No."

"Good. But I did know about the hate campaign. I met with one of the protesters this morning."

_December 15, back in the land of the leprechaun._

"How was Australia?"

"How's your face, Artemis?"

"I need your help."

That made me pay attention. I whirled, and glared at him suspiciously. "I'm not killing Minerva for you."

"Who?"

I sat at the kitchen table and wrapped my hands around my cup of tea. "What's up, then?"

Artemis studied his porridge. "I need to buy Holly a Christmas present and-"

"Oh sweet baby Jesus."

It was his turn to glare. "Butler has advised me to get her something she would like, as opposed to something she would find…useful."

"No jewelry."

"Do you have any advice?"

"No jewelry."

"I take it Australia wasn't all that nice to go back to."

"It was raining. It's December. I was looking forward to sun. Doo doo doo doo."

"Indeed."

"I don't know, Artemis. Usually I get people books or something. A DVD box set of NCIS?"

"She has that."

"…Oh. I suggest a nice Celtic Woman CD then."

He stuck his spoon in the porridge. "Please be serious. Will you come to Dublin with me and help me find something?"

I took a sip of tea. "Yeah, I guess. Where will Holly be?"

"With Butler, exercising."

He said 'exercising' the same way some people would say 'genocide.'

"Right. Ring a taxi, or a bus, or a centaur. Let's go."

**2. The Trouble With Thomas.**

I'd only just unlocked my office when I had a poster stuck in front of my face. Coincidentally, it had my face stuck on it. It was the kind of photo they show on Crimestoppers – I was covered in dirt and blood, swinging a pipe at something out of frame. Possibly a Sue, possibly Matt, possibly a Fangirl.

"Get a new picture. My Facebook has tons." I said, pushing open the door.

The poster was again thrust in my face. "Read the writing!"  
And so I did. _'MAJOR MARTIN MURDERS MAIN SHIP.'_

Oh alliteration. What fun.

'_Major Clare Martin has seized a mission from the assigned recruit and taken off to the Artemis Fowl fandom, hellbent on destroying the Artemis/Holly ship. This, a blatant attack on an innocent pairing and-'_

I'd had enough. I'd had enough, and it was seven-fifteen. I scrunched the paper up and faced the kid who'd made it. I'd never seen him before.

"Right." I sat down at my desk and frowned. "Shut the door, take a seat. Name, rank, study."

The boy slid into the seat opposite me. He was a short kid with glasses and messy blonde hair. He glared at me.

I glared back.

He crossed his arms.

I stayed glaring.

He frowned.

I banged my fist down on the table, and he jumped.

"Name." I said, sliding my hand under the table and rubbing it. "Rank. Study."

"Private Thomas Harrison, Fangirologist, ma'am."

"Private? Who's your mentor, then?"  
"Captain Katherine Bro-"

"Ah." Fangirologists. Morons. They become the very things they fight. "I don't know where you get your dumb ideas or incorrect information from, but Thomas. If I see one poster saying I'm sabotaging a pairing or deliberately neglecting a fandom, you will never make Corporal, let alone Captain."

I opened a folder. It had nothing in it but my insurance claims, but he didn't need to know that.

He was still there.

"Get out of my sight."

He ran, scattering papers.

_Land of the Leprechaun, a shop in Dublin._

"Artemis, you said we weren't getting jewelry."

"Correction," said Artemis, tugging off his gloves and holding the shop door open for me. "You said we weren't getting jewelry for Holly. However, you shot down every other suggestion I had for a present, including the donations to WWF and Amnesty International in her name."

I unzipped my jacket and shook snow from my hair. A tall, slimy looking shop assistant gave me a look. I obviously wasn't their kind of customer.

We were in one of those ridiculously high-end shops, red velvet and gold everywhere, glass cases with little pillows in them, spotlights shining on the thousand-Euro trinkets. Some of the stuff I saw you could get at Diva for ten dollars. Some of it…not so much.

"Very well, Master Fowl." I said. "But no rings."

Artemis made a 'whatever you say' gesture. It was very expressive.

Slimy Shop Assistant oiled his way over at the words 'Master Fowl.'

"Sir, Madam. May I be of assistance? My name is Cyril."

"Of course it is."

Artemis ignored me. "Yes, indeed. I wish to purchase a bracelet or necklace for a young woman."

"This young woman, perhaps?" Cyril nodded at me. I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm allergic to ferrous metals. Makes life rather difficult."

"You know the word ferrous?"

"Madam, I can assure you, none of our jewellery contains…_iron." _Cyril said iron like some would say, _'_genocide.' "Unless of course, you are referring to our new iron-based range of chains and watches."

"She is not. I would like to see the gold bracelets."

I nudged Artemis. "Say please, Arty."

Cyril's lip twitched.

"_Please_."

Cyril lead us into a large room with no windows, lit with a massive, hideous chandelier and started talking about carats, inlays and clasp-types. I trailed a few steps after Artemis, scuffing my Converses on the carpet.

"And we have this, with dozens of charms to choose from."

"Clare?" Artemis asked. "The Pandora?"

I stopped scuffing. Another shop assistant ran out with a Dust Buster and started vacuuming the areas I'd messed up.

"You want to give Holly a Pandora bracelet?"

He gave me a bewildered look. "It's aesthetically pleasing."

"Then no. Cyril?"

He put the bracelet back down on the cushion and locked the case before turning to me.

"Yes, madam?"

"Go away. You're wasting our time."

"Yes madam. Shall I send someone else?"

"No."

He oiled off and I leant on a case with some seriously boring watches. "Aesthetically pleasing? God, Artemis. You want a present that you think she will like having and think is nice…and something that's her. Holly wouldn't wear a charm bracelet, denken Sie an es."

"Ich auch-"

"And bracelets, now that I'm on the topic, not good when you work with weapons. Where are the necklaces? Ah." we began to walk over to another room, with another chandelier. "There was a girl in the Slayers who wore a loose watch, you know the kind? And she was off on a mission in Twilight and a Sue came for her. The watch got caught on her holster."

"Did she die?"

I shrugged and leaned close to a case with a purple cushion. "Dunno. I only got the text this morning. Now. Necklaces, on the other hand-"

"Holly already wears her Book on a necklace."

"We'll get her a chain then. A nice strong one. Lots of carats. Twenty four of them."

Artemis went to the opposite side of the case and looked through at me. "Twenty-four carat gold jewelry is usually too soft to be-"

"Tell that to a dozen of your fanfic girlfriends."

"I wish I could."

"Hmmm."

"Are you going to tell me what happened in Australia or will it come out at a more dramatically appropriate time?"

"These are too weak for Holly. The links will break. I'll consider it."

We moved onto the next case, this one with much thicker chains, with chunky pendants. Artemis walked right past it.

We found something for Holly after almost an hour of searching. The richness of the place had given me a headache, and as we stepped back out into the cold, I rubbed my forehead.

"Would you like lunch here?" Artemis asked, Holly's present in his pocket, gift wrapped. I'd wanted Rowan Atkinson to show up and do it, but to no avail. We'd gotten Cyril.

"Yes, because if we were at home I'd probably cook."

"There's an excellent Italian restaurant-"

"I had Italian yesterday. Can I pick?"

"I suppose."

"You're going to love this." I jumped down the stairs and hurried off down the street, Artemis doing his best to keep up.

"You want us to eat at McDonalds?" he said 'McDonalds' the way most people would say 'genocide.'  
"McDonalds."

**3. An Altercation With Amelia.**

"Major Martin-"

"Molly, it's Clare. I've known you for ten years."

"Yep." The Canonist giggled. "The Commander wants to see you, now."

I shut my folder. "Really – now? It's nearly lunchtime."

Alex stuck his head around the door.

"Clare, lunch?"

"Later."

I sent the pair away and made my way over to Amelia's office – it was, of course, higher than mine, bigger and with ridiculously comfortable chairs.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Mm-hmm." Amelia was squinting at her laptop.

"Did you ever make that appointment with the optometrist?"

She shook her head, and closed it. "I don't have a glasses face. And you never wear yours."

"Well, I barely need them. Only when I'm tired. What's up?"

Amelia smiled. "I'm nineteen next year."

"I'm sixteen. What's with that? Like, the Earth going round the sun, I know. It's weird."

"Clare."

"You said you'd never pick me. You wanted Elliot."

"I wanted you and Elliot. Elliot for in here, you out there. But now Elliot's leaving, and you're…I know you want to leave, because of the stuff that happened in Twilight-"

"Stuff? Paralysis is st-"

"I'm leaving next year, Clare, and I want you to be Commander."

I'm not proud of what I said when that sentence came into the world. Amelia gaped. "How'd you learn to swear in _Hebrew_?"

"…You promised I would never have to-"

"I was just warning you so when you get a letter you don't spontaneously combust."

"A Big Mac?"

"Eat it. For the love of God, I paid."

"I'd rather have…what are you eating?"

"It's a Chicken Caesar salad. I just wanted to see your face when confronted with the meal of the Great Unwashed."

Artemis picked out a few chips and ate them delicately. "These have absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever."

I sipped my milkshake. "If you don't eat it all the time, it's OK. God, we're not American, Artemis."

"Australia is currently the fattest country in the world."

"Well, yes. But…eat your goddamn food, Artemis."

Artemis smiled like a vampire. A real vampire. "I will if you tell me something. What happened in Australia? You've been in a terrible mood since-"

I sighed. "Well, Amelia wants me to be Commander when she leaves next year."

"Isn't that a good thing? Advancement in the workplace-"

I shook my head. "Can you see me running the Slayers? Besides, the Commander gets stuck behind a desk ninety percent of the time, and gets one hundred percent of the blame when something goes wrong. Well, eighty percent."

Artemis steepled his fingers. I copied him. Thankfully the top floor of McDonalds was almost empty, so no one noticed.

"The Majors share the last twenty percent. I mean, I deserved it the last time a blame needed to be shared, it was my _fault_, but I can't deal with it…more of it, anyway."

"Good." Artemis took a small bite of hamburger and chewed carefully. After swallowing, he smiled. "That isn't that bad."

I smiled back. "So, I'm saying no. I'm happy with being Major. More than happy."

He took another bite. "What was your fault?"

I unsteepled my fingers and clenched them into fists.

"Quid pro quo, Doctor Lecter." I muttered. "You know Matthew Carney?"

"Vaguely."

"He was the star of the American Slayers. Founder of the Sue Snipers, highest kill rate in two decades-"

"Sexual tension with any female who looked his way? Even you?"  
I choked on some lettuce. "What makes you say that?"

"Ah, especially you. I've been doing some research, Major Martin. Now I'm 'media aware' as some would say, I'm rather…'genre savvy.' I've been studying your genre quite closely."

"I don't have a genre." I said. "I'm real."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, we are not having that conversation. Seriously."

"Moving on, then. What has become of Mr. Carney?"

My mouth twisted. "He's paralysed from the waist down."

"How-"

"Explosion. My fault. He was trying to help me get away from a Troll. I want a sundae, do you want a sundae?"

**More to come. My friend is lending me her laptop while she goes on a camping trip, so I should be able to update within a couple of days.**

**The Myer windows are astoundingly enough, a set of windows that the department store decorates every Christmas. The past few years they've been quite lame, but I went and saw them a couple of days ago (they get taken down on the seventh, I think) and it was the Nutcracker. Seven out of ten.**

**Yes.**

**Sorry for being so late and the spotty review replying.**

**-Nicola.**


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